The thrill of victory, the agony of defeat and underestimating the hunger of journalists

I was na’ve. When I first got to Olympic Stadium on Tuesday afternoon to pick up my media accreditation I thought it was just another CFL game. But sometime between seeing a human torch dressed in Saskatchewan Roughrider green and being overwhelmed with crazed CFL fans at a downtown Montreal hotel, I realized this wasn’t just a CFL game. It was the Canadian Super Bowl.
Now, that may even be slighting the Grey Cup. If you weren’t downtown at any point this week, shame on you. Fans from all over Canada took part in the festivities and I don’t think I’ve ever seen as many cowboy hats as I did this week.
But, part of the fun was the ability to go behind the scenes with the Grey Cup events. It wasn’t without a hitch – I suspect nothing is when so much is involved, but allow me to give you the highlights of a behind-the-scenes tour.
The week started Tuesday when I picked up my media pass. I had to get my picture taken, and the woman behind the counter told everyone theirs was “a nice picture.” However, that trend stopped when she handed me my pass. Perhaps that’s because I looked like I belonged on A&E’s True Crime Stories as a flight attendant abductor between 1973 and 1977.

Thursday – Breakfast, lunch and dinner. Oh My!
On Thursday morning the Alouettes held their media breakfast. It was at a posh hotel, and it was not continental. Two positives. This was my first day to do one-on-one interviews and I spoke to several players and coaches before going to get food. This was a fatal mistake. Not only had the offensive linemen eaten, they had made more than one trip. It meant my plate was lacking french toast and potatoes.
After the Alouettes breakfast was the Stampeders lunch. And, honestly, if the Grey Cup came down to the food, the Als would win in a landslide. Stampeder wide receiver Nik Lewis was going off about how the spread wasn’t a buffet, but was “Subway.” The spread of weird sandwiches looked good, but tasted half as good.
It was also Thursday afternoon when I realized the actual Grey Cup was actually a big deal. The trophy was sitting next to the podium, and I had a quick look. It was a lot like the Stanley Cup in that every player’s name was engraved.
That night was the Gibson’s Finest CFL Player Awards hosted by bilingual comic Christopher Hall. Let’s just say he was horrible, and that may be an understatement. His first joke was: “If you’re from out of town and don’t speak French, don’t worry. All you have to say is ‘I’m sorry I only speak English. But I French very well.'” His next line knocked curling, which didn’t take into account the number of fans from Saskatchewan who almost booed him off stage. Alouettes president Larry Smith had to apologize when he took the stage a little later.

Sunday – Game Day!
I arrived at Olympic Stadium a little before 2:00 p.m., four hours before kickoff and one hour before the doors opened.
The press box was open, which meant you could see and hear as if you were actually in the stadium. The boos and cheers were deafening from the 66,308 fans.
At halftime, the second food crisis of the week happened. There were a lot of hungry journalists and a shortage of hot dogs. This forced most media members to miss the halftime show. Not that the journalists minded. Not many adults enjoy Theory of a Deadman, Suzie McNeil and Andrée Watters.
Once the game was over, it was time to talk to the winning and losing teams. My first stop was the Alouettes’ dressing room, which was quiet except for the players being interviewed. Anthony Calvillo was my first stop, followed by Bryan Chiu, who was the most emotional and then on to Anwar Stewart.
Then I went onto the field to talk to the winning Stampeders. From Henry Burris to Jeremaine Copeland to Sandro DeAngelis, the Stamps were much happier. Going into the dressing room, I was shocked to see the celebrations. You see it on TV, but to be there was surreal. You had players with their families and friends smoking victory cigars, you had puddles of champagne and people just soaking it all in. I think ashes of a victory cigar went down my neck. It hurt a little bit.
It got to a point where I just wanted to stay in that room, and observe. I couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to have won the trophy. I wouldn’t want to imagine what it would be like to be in the other dressing room.

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